


30 Day OTP Challenges

by mythtress



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge, Bad Weather, Blow Jobs, Character Study, Conversations, Developing Relationship, Drinking & Talking, Established Relationship, Family Fluff, First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff without Plot, Getting to Know Each Other, Holding Hands, Introspection, Jokes, Kissing, Lighthouses, M/M, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn with Feelings, Public Masturbation, Radstorms, Seaside, radiation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2018-12-23 01:41:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11979429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythtress/pseuds/mythtress
Summary: Combining both the 30 day OTP Challenges into one big compilation, so there's lots of Hancock/Male Sole Survivor fluff and loving all in one location.





	1. Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate needs to be reminded of the importance of rest.

A long yawn caught him off guard. The hours had passed by as he’d poured over makeshift maps and settlement placement. Comparing to the digital readout on the pip boy for accuracy had taken an excessive amount of time. The maps would be a necessity for the newly formed Minutemen patrols, so they would have some idea of what they were walking into out in the Commonwealth. Another yawn broke his concentration and the General dropped the pencil he’d been using, letting it roll away over the multitude of papers.

The only other ones awake at this time would be the night watch, stationed about the Castle. Ready to raise the alarm should the Minutemen base come under attack. Even Hancock had turned in, after being informed he was making a nuisance of himself. The ghoul had tried his best to get the man to bed, smooth talk and bribery notwithstanding. Nate had resisted, adamant that the maps needed to be finished posthaste. Hancock had relented, reluctantly, with a warning that even important officials needed a break every once in awhile.

Now with his eyes drooping, heavy with sleep, Nate lamented not settling in with the Mayor earlier. Deciding the maps could wait for daylight, as Hancock had suggested, he pushed away from the table and doused the oil lamp.

His footfalls echoed down the empty stone corridor. During the daytime hours the castle bustled with activity, many a militia man running to and fro. Yet now the fort sat eerily silent. Even in the middle of the courtyard, the great radio tower cast out it's patriotic tunes at a lower volume, as the night time listener awaited any settlements calling out for aid.

Nate sighed and continued down the corridor, past the barracks; that now boasted numbers at capacity. The Minutemen were recruiting at an all time high. It should make him feel proud, accomplished. However, he still felt like he wasn't doing enough. There were still people in need, and still the settlers of the Commonwealth faced harsh realities on a daily basis. No one was thriving in the areas around Boston, all anyone could do was survive for now. Nate knew in his heart that the time of white picket fences and rambling roses was gone, but he couldn’t shake the desire to aid these people, to make the world better. Even if it meant helping individuals one by one with nothing more than a 10 millimeter, a lot of willpower, and maybe a little luck.

The guard posted at his chamber door saluted, sloppily, with a jolt of nervous energy, giving away his status as a raw recruit. Nate humored him with an answering salute. He’d have to tell the man in the morning that those formalities really weren’t necessary, but tiredness pulled him into the room and away from any lengthy explanations. Electricity hummed dimly through the wall mounted lights, proving the old generator deep below the fort was still working. The electric sconces had a nice balancing ambiance with the grey stone work of the fort, and didn’t need to be kept lit like torches. Only real issue was finding replacement bulbs. One day, these things would run out and he wasn’t sure what they’d do then. The light produced was low, just enough to see by as he made his way across the room, striping down in the process.

His long coat hung neatly side by side with a matching red frock, and twin tricorns sat atop a coatrack. His boots were off by the time he got to the weathered wine table. It’s polished marbled surface still glinting even after all the years stored in the fort’s repository. He replaced the stopper on the crystal decanter, and grinned at the used tumbler. He felt an ounce of guilt at not sharing in the nightcap but there would be other drinks and the work was important. He had to believe that it was, that he was making a difference. Pants and underwear were lost in the trek along the cold stone floor. Shirt buttons stubbornly clinging in a desperate attempt to keep him dressed. He succeeded in removing the garment by the time he’d made it to the bed and smiled at the form that he found there.

Nate leaned tiredly into the mattress and reached out but the body edged away from him, closer to the wall. Nate frowned, brows knitting together in annoyance. “You’re awake?”

“‘Bout time you came to bed.” Hancock’s voice was gruff with petulance. His head craned over a shoulder and black eyes narrowed at the vault dweller. “Yeah. I’m awake.”

Nate flopped onto his back and sighed deeply, palms rubbing into his eyes till he saw spots. He felt so fucking tired. Deep in the bone, muscles ached from the constant tension. He let out a shaky breathe. Mind whirled all the time and the weight of it made him start to shake. His hands had to be in motion because if he wasn't doing something, then he couldn't justify being here, in the future.

The threadbare sheets are shuffled and the mattress hardly registers the change of weight as the body of Hancock fits itself, like a puzzle piece, to the dweller’s. When the ghoul gently tugged at Nate’s arms, they instantly fall to wrap around the slimmer man and hold him fast.

Hancock wiped away a few stray tears. “It’s alright, Love. You can’t be everything for everyone, it’s to much. You gotta rest.” He runs a hand through the man’s hair and smiles. “And rest is hard for me to do without you here, you know.”

Nate grinned as he pulled the ghoul onto his chest. Hancock’s scarred skin gave off wondrous heat, radiating into every inch where they touched. It washed away the aches and inadequacies he felt. They curled into each other, the rest of the world sliding away while their consciousness were taken up with one another, and sleep. They could tackle the Commonwealth’s problems the next day, together.


	2. In The Rain, Or On A Plane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate and Hancock seek shelter in a crashed plane before a Radstorm rolls in. They don't quite make it in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kiss (Naked)

They had been walking for some time without incident. The outline of an airplane wing just visible over the next ridge. The sky was beginning to darken as they continued on their way down a ravine. Hancock grabbed him by the arm to halt their descent.

“What's up?”

The ghoul tilted his head back, face towards the gathering thunderhead in the east. Nate watched in fascination as he noticed the man's fingers gently twitch. “That's a rad storm rolling in. Should get you out of the open.”

Nate glanced at the clouds, noting the tinge of green. “How can you tell?”

Hancock grinned, “Ghouls feel radiation. We’re basically walking Geiger counters and when radstorms roll in, now this is gonna sound weird; but it makes the air sort of...prickly.”

Nate nodded. “Like before a lighting strike?”

The ghoul shrugged. “Haven't been lucky enough to be around for one of those. I particularly don't care for rain myself, and an intense enough shower of radiation might have you looking like me.”

Nate grinned, “I could think of worse things.”

The Ghoul’s eyes widened noticeably before he huffed a laugh and shoved the other man playful. “C’mon, get going. We gotta find somewhere to hang before that storm breaks.”

The vault dweller nodded, “There’s a crashed plane up that way. Maybe a part of it will be alright.”

The plane had split into sections, and now lay strewn across a small valley. Nate wasn't sure if the aircraft or the landscape had been there first. A portion with what appeared to be coach seating was precariously perched on one rocky wall, it's angle leading into a steep incline. Seemingly impossible to climb, and standing from below he could make out the broken paneling, the tumbled luggage, and the desiccated corpses still securely fastened in their seats. The section wasn't his first choice for shelter.

One of the twin engines sat, resting in a perpetual pool between the two largest pieces of the plane. On the right side of the valley sat the front half of the plane, where a large portion of the cargo hold had survived, intact. Nate began to search through the area. Surprised by the amount of luggage that still remained. Brightly colored handbags, dinged up roller bags, a multitude of brief cases, and even a built in safe in the back, were among the collection of debris that had survived the crash. He imagined that the only thing that had survived was the mish mash of carry-ons and checked baggage. Nate doubted anyone had survived such a rough landing.

“This place is a bit to low in the ground. See the angle? Any water would fill it up and we’d have no place to go.” Hancock pointed back towards the outside, which was beginning to darken. “We can come back and look through this lot once the storm passes.” Nate concurred and followed the ghoul out of the cargo hold. Shafts of sunlight had become hazy as the dark clouds rolled swiftly across the sky. They moved up a ridge on the side of the valley, and Nate noticed how close it was to the upper deck of the plane.

“We could jump across?” He suggested, gesturing to the gap.

Hancock scoffed. “I may not look it, but i’m not as spry as I used to be.” A sudden streak of bright green lightning flashed across the thunder head above them and caused both men to shrink back. “Whatever we do, we should do it fast, so...age before beauty.”

The ghoul motioned for the dweller to leap from the ledge. Nate chuckled, slipping the heavy, battered, rucksack from his back. There was no way to make it across while wearing it. He gauged the distance, taking a full two steps back, before tearing into a full run and jumped at the last moment. He landed squarely on the deck of the plane, stumbling only briefly, and pleasantly surprised with it not giving way under his weight.

As he spun around to coax his companion across the gap the battered rucksack slammed onto the floor, sliding several feet past him.  
“Christ!” Nate glanced from the bag to the Ghoul, who looked rather smug on the ledge as he rotated his arm.  
“That’s a helluva arm.”

Hancock was in the midst of a reply when the sky opened and rain assaulted the world, falling in sheets. It took an instant before Nate felt the familiar burn of radiation against his exposed skin. Scalp and hands tingling, each droplet a pin prick of liquid heat. It was uncomfortable, and the Geiger counter of his pip boy was ticking away. If he stayed out in the weather to long he’d feel the effects of radiation poisoning or worse.

“Hancock! Come on!” The dweller shouted over the torrent as it battered against the metal surrounding him.

“Just go!” The ghoul yelled back.

“Not without you!” Nate insisted, shielding his head with his forearms. Hancock’s shoulders fell slightly in resignation, and he took a running jump. The Ghoul slid on the now slicked flooring, right into the dweller's chest. Life threatening circumstances were enough to keep the awkwardness from their movements as Nate grabbed the Ghoul's hand and made a mad dash down the galley. The top of the plane had been torn open like a can of tuna, exposing jagged edges. Rain poured in and flooded the first class cabin. They bolted up a flight of stairs and slammed the heavy door shut. The rain continued to drum against the plane, but the noise seemed lessened inside; what had to be the cockpit of the plane. They breathed heavily against the door for a moment, then Nate caught sight out the, amazingly still intact windows. Water poured down in waves, obscuring one's vision, so all that could be seen were the essence of shapes outside. Flashes of bright white and green illuminated the dark canvas of the sky. The storm had enveloped everything and in that instant it was beautiful.

Then he felt the itch, the slow creeping burn. His fingers moved to scratch involuntarily along his throat, down his sides, and hips.

Hancock noticed. “You better get out of those wet clothes. Where's your pack?”

Nate glanced around the small cabin. “Shit!” He scratched vigorously at his wet scalp. “I left it. It must be soaked through by now.” The dweller let out a ragged sound of annoyance as his nails raked down the sides of this face.

“Just take off the suit, Pip boy. You need to dry out. I got a hit of Rad-X here somewhere.” The Ghoul began to search amid the many pockets of his red frock.

Nate chuckled, nervously. “Want me to strip, huh?”

“It ain't nothing I haven't seen.” The Ghoul grinned, and continued in a playful tone. “Nothing I don't want to see, either.”

Though Nate had turned around and already pulled the zipper down halfway, he halted at the the man's words. He bit his lip in hesitation before he finally asked. “What about you?”

“Hm?” Hancock looked over at him. He’d been fishing out a small, amber glass bottle with a smudged x on it from one of his pockets.

“You can't be comfortable. All wet like that. Maybe...you should dry out too?”

Hancock's grin split from ear to ear. “Well if you insist.” He placed the bottle onto a metal console between two high backed chairs. Hancock’s coat slipped off with ease, and was placed on the back of one of the chairs. His shirt buttons seemed to fly open and Nate turned back around to focus on undressing himself. He listened to the shuffling of clothing, taking his time to slowly take off his outer layer of protection, until he finally heard the odd noise of old, plush leather and naked skin.

“Come on, Sunshine. You’re missing the show. This is one hell of a storm.” A roll of thunder punctuated Hancock’s statement. Nate flushed, at the thought of what they were doing but he pushed any ideas aside as the tingling sensation started afresh along his scalp, and arms. He slipped his suit over the top of his own chair and quickly plopped down. Nate mentally admonished himself for being so ridiculous. It wasn't like he hadn't seen naked men before.

“There you are.” The ghoul chided him, looking as coy as a kitten, legs tucked up in the big pilot’s chair. Nate smiled, feeling a heat not associated with radiation in his stomach. “Here.” They reached for the Rad-X in unison, Nate’s larger hand knocking into the bottle and sending it skidding across the dash. Both men went for the bottle, bolting from their seats, bumping shoulders. Hancock caught it, though he wasn’t looking at the bottle. They stared at one another for a long, silent moment. A flash of lightning outside caught and reflected in the Ghoul’s eyes, and Nate was struck at how lovely he looked; with the darkened, green shadows of the storm playing across his face.

Nate’s hand curled around Hancock’s own, and he moved forward. The Ghoul remained stationary, letting the dweller come to him. Their lips met, eyes closing, as the storm continued to batter the plane bound for nowhere. It was soft, a feather light caress, and over far too soon as Hancock pulled back first. He released the bottle of Rad-X into the dweller’s grip, and sat back against the armrest of his chair.

“Well…” The ghoul started. “That was...”

“Nice?” Nate offered, with a hopeful quirk of his lips, returning to his own chair and popping the top of the bottle. Hancock nodded with a chuckle.

“Yeah. Real nice.”

The two smiled at one another and watched out the window as the storm began to clear. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know I took some liberties with Radstorms, and their in game physics. I don't care. I wanted smooching with pretty rain.


	3. Hand-Cock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock finds himself alone and tense one evening in Goodneighbor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Masturbation prompt

Evening had wrapped Goodneighbor in its loving embrace. Draping the citizens and their deeds in murky shadow, including the town's own Mayor. The Ghoul leaned heavily on the balcony that overlooked the main square. Watching his beloved freaks and weirdos mull about their nightly business.

However Hancock felt anxiousness building up, moving down his arm. It tensed the nerves in his hand and caused his fingers to drum on the railing. The feeling didn't appeal to him. Especially on a night as serene as this.

He slipped a grey tortoise out of an inside pocket with the kind of ease that only came from years of failure. The slim, wrapped stick of tobacco was bent at the middle. The malformation made him grin. Twisted out of its proper shape, kinda like him. He’d light it, let it burn bright, use it all up, and then throw it away without a second thought. Odd that he and a cigarette had so much in common. It wasn't funny. Except in that sad way that things often were. He still chuckled deep in his throat, as a match struck against the railing, thinking of what could have become of him.   

The introspection only worsened the anxiousness clawing up his insides. He’d wish someone would claw up his outsides to help distract him, get his mind off recent events. A cloud of smoke spiraled from his nasal cavity as he thought over exactly who’s hands he’d like, and a certain pair of pre war paws popped to the forefront of his musings.

Anyone that had seen the vault suit clad man walking around town, would salute the Mayor for his fine, fine taste. Hancock imagined just how good of a grip those thick, strong fingers would have on his hips. He ground his own fingers into his hip bone and groaned low in his throat at the sensation.

Oh yeah! He could work with this. They'd meet down in the Third Rail, because everything in his town started there. Get a couple drinks in the man to wash off the nice guy veneer. Offer him a hit of something to turn those doe eyes into bedroom eyes.

All while Hancock was dreaming up this little scenario his hand had moved from the railing to clawing at his torso through his shirt. Moving up over his chest, pressing in at his throat.

He’d slide the offer of a tour of the state house into their conversation. Hadn't had anyone say no, yet. They'd end up out on the balcony, and at the thought Hancock pushed his hips hard into the railing. He hissed at the sudden friction, the hand that had been toying with his hip now working it's way to his belt.

As big as the Vaultie was, muscles encompassing old world charm; Hancock hoped he’d be rough with a few drinks in him. Loosen up those inhibitions. Come at the Mayor from behind, and block him in with those massive arms.

Hancock's hand had worked open the tie of his belt and unfastened the button of his jeans. He pushed forward against the railing again, as he thought of the dweller's breathe against his ear. His fingers dug into his neck, right where he hoped the man’s teeth would.

“Ffff...uck.” The word slid past his clenched teeth, one boot scraping on the balcony in eager frustration. The hand at his jeans had finally found it’s mark, palming himself before pulling down the zipper enough to thumb the head of his cock.

Hancock sighed with satisfaction as the hand at his throat moved to bite into his collarbone, and roam inside his open shirt. He wondered if the dweller was a talker. If he’d whisper filthy things or just get down to business without a word. The ghoul didn’t think he’d mind either way, as he stroked himself. He was enjoying the thought of being fucked over the balcony railing far too much to care about small details.      

He gripped himself, stroking fast, twisting his wrist before coming over the head of his cock. His breath hitched, and he noticed the haziness of his vision. A side effect of coming down off Mentats. A light chuckle escaped him. What a way to come down! 

He closed his eyes, and saw the Vault Dweller, here, with him. He could feel him pressed up against him, arms wrapped around him. Hancock pictured the man’s hand instead of his own and it didn’t take more than a few pumps to push him over. His stomach tightened, toes curled, as he came.

He leaned onto the railing with a forearm, letting himself and the world fall back into place. He wiped his hand on the balcony decor, with a dazed smirk. As Mayor he didn’t want to give anyone a free show, but he was also thinking how fun it would be with someone up here with him. Especially a certain vault suit wearing individual. Hancock reached for the Mentat container in his coat pocket. Popping one before he’d even stuffed himself back into his pants, he made a mental note to get the guy’s name the next time he saw him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am rusty with smut related things. I will continue to try.


	4. Beacon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock takes in the seaside and feels depressed, so Nate gets his mind off the ocean; all atop a lighthouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was Blowjob
> 
> The lighthouse settlement is based off the one I built not the one in game that's overrun with (aggressive) Children of Atom.

Hancock had never cared for the sea. The smell of brined decay carried in off the ocean didn't naturally appeal to him, as it did for so many others. He had been born and raised in the city. The towering buildings, with their slinking shadows and crumbling facades were his home. 

However, he now found himself facing the horizon, sea breeze slapping him in the face, with the sound of gentle waves over shadowed by the caws of sea birds feasting on the carcass of a bloated marine animal, that had washed up on shore. The worst of the smell couldn't claw it's way up the lighthouse, where he was perched, but it permeated the salty air, carried by the particles, and stuck in the back of the throat. 

Hancock disliked the sea. The thought crossed his mind again as he watched the ramshackle, fishing boat bash into the wharf. He’d never admit how much his heart had raced when Nate joked about them taking it, setting sail, and never looking back. No, that moment of pure exhilaration, and terror, would go to his grave. 

For all the Ghoul's posturing, and his fall back plan of sexy pirate, the sea was honestly rather terrifying. He’d seen a few books about the ocean by now, and every one knew about Ol’ Peg, the ghoul blue whale. All at once he was horrified and wonder struck at what the sea hid. There were enough threats on land to deal with, and he was firmly attached to dry, unshifting soil, beneath his feet. The only true benefit of being at sea, would be it being just the two of them with no one else to answer to. 

Hancock smirked at the thought. He would be alright, but Nate could never live that way, no matter how much he’d argue to the contrary. The man did for others, lived for others, loved for others. He’d turn their boat right around as soon as he thought about the Commonwealth and all the people that still needed help.

“Hey.” A hand on his elbow brought the Ghoul back to the present. 

“Hey, Love.” It was odd how easily the word came now. Slipped from his throat like it was meant for the man standing beside him. It helped that Nate graced him with a smile every time Hancock said it.

“Thinking about something?” 

“Just... watching the waves.” He looked to the shore below them, glad the old lighthouse still had some semblance of a guardrail. 

“Hm.” Nate moved to stand beside him, a hand settling on the Ghoul's waist. “It's a beautiful spot. We’re lucky the locals let us stay.” 

Hancock sidled closer, humming in agreement. “I’d rather not have my fine head adorn their anti-raider wall.”

Nate planted a kiss on the Mayor's cheek, earning him a incredulous look in response. “What was that for?” 

“For coming all the way out here with me. I know the coastline isn't your favorite.” 

Hancock grinned, glancing back to the ocean. “The seas consumed so much. Moved inland, or so I’ve been told. One day it might even be at my doorstep.” He sighed heavily. “I wonder...if I’ll be around for that.” 

Nate frowned, pulling the Ghoul away from the railing and into his arms. He had been fearful of smothering the smaller male when they’d first engaged in a more physical relationship, but at times like this he only hoped to provide some semblance of support. He’d never intended their trip to the ocean side to bring up bad feelings. In fact, getting away from Boston was meant to be good for them, or so he had hoped. Nate smiled as he felt Hancock’s arms wrap around him, and his head bury into his chest; his body relaxing into the embrace. 

“I think I know a way to get your mind on more pleasant things.” His hand moved to the Ghoul’s neck, rubbing soothing circles, then grabbing the Tricorn as Hancock looked up at him. He placed the hat back on the Ghoul’s head with a sly smile.

“Oh, and what might that be?” The glint in Hancock’s eyes got the dweller every time, it was even more beautiful, reflecting the dying sun off the surf. Nate sighed with delight, distracting his lover with a kiss, and pushing him back towards the stairs that led up to the lighthouses upper level.

“Sit down.” He breathed, breaking away, guiding the Mayor to sit on one of the stone steps. Hancock was eyeing him with skepticism again, but did as he was asked. “Lean back, this will be fun. Promise.” Sliding his hands down the Ghoul’s legs he spread them wide enough for himself to fit in between, and moved forward; kneeling down. 

“What do you have in mind, Love?” Nate had caught Hancock’s interest with the sudden show of spontaneity. The man could be loads of fun, when he wanted to be. Nate smiled, lifting himself up to kiss the Ghoul.

“Think good thoughts.” He whispered, before moving down the Mayor’s jaw, neck, and collarbone. He grazed his teeth, never staying to long in one spot. Hancock’s upper body wasn’t his primary concern at the moment. His hands had been busy unzipping the Ghoul’s jeans. 

“You...you wanna do that here?” Hancock stammered, as he watched Nate move down his torso. “Preston’s right. I am a corrupting influence.” He chuckled, the noise dying in his throat, as his half hard cock was pulled from his pants. Nate eyed him, hand moving in lackadaisical up and down strokes. 

“Maybe I needed to be?” He challenged, tongue darting out to swipe over the head. Hancock hissed, biting into the knuckle of his finger. Nate smirked. “Maybe, I like it.” He used his tongue to move from base to tip and then took the Ghoul’s cock into this mouth. He hollowed his cheeks as he moved down over the head. 

“Ah.” Hancock couldn’t get much more out as he focused on not bucking into the heat of Nate’s mouth. His hand planted itself firmly into Nate’s warm, black tresses, moving up and down as the man’s head bobbed in a gentle rhythm. He felt Nate’s hand holding fast to the base of his cock, as his other hand kept a grip on his hip. Hancock knew he was in good hands, being taken care of, so he leaned back and closed his eyes. The ocean waves were far clearer, even through the noise of his breathing and the odd sucking sounds Nate made. It seemed perfect, which meant it had to end. 

Hancock pulled on Nate’s hair, enough to get the man’s attention. “Love, I’m gonna...soon.” He rasped out, feeling light headed without taking a hit from anything. Nate smirked around him, continuing his oral ministrations, even pushing himself to take the Ghoul deeper. Hancock gasped, gripping into the man’s shoulder, and trying his best to not force himself further down the man’s throat. “Ra...rads…” Hancock would have been quite impressed with his level of self restraint if he had been able to think. Nate apparently wasn’t in the mood to have the Ghoul making decisions, as he hollowed his cheeks further, using his tongue to swirl over the head of Hancock’s dick. 

The Mayor was undone, every muscle tensing, cock pulsing. Nate drank him down with a satisfied noise, tongue lapping till there was nothing left. He pulled away, face flushed, as he tucked his paramour away. Hancock laid on the stairs, staring at the sky; a drowsy, happy haze about him. Nate smiled at the sight, before thinking he should move them somewhere more comfortable than the stairs for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (throws self from the lighthouse)


	5. A Sobering Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate asks Hancock why they've never had sex sober, and the answer isn't quite what he was expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Squishy Hancock!

It was one of those rare times. A day of rest for the Sole Survivor. He had tinkered around with some power armor, played with Dogmeat, and then tended to the house despite Codsworth's objections. Now Nate had something he didn't expect, time on his hands. Heaving a sigh as he glanced around the house, he was unsure of what else to do.

"Perhaps, Sir would enjoy a nap?" 

"You know Codsworth, that sounds pretty good."

"Perhaps, Sir would enjoy a nap with company?" A figure asked, leaning against the kitchen door frame. Nate had removed the screen door a while ago, with every intention to repair the screen. Now, with the tricorn adorned figure of Hancock standing in the doorway, the home repair was struck from Nate's mental to do list. Hancock was subsequently added and moved to the top of that list.

"Mayor Hancock, good afternoon. What a pleasant surprise. Would you like some tea?" Codsworth clanked the kettle onto the stove top. Buzzsaw whirring to life, ready to go harvest some of the thistle that grew in the backyard. 

The Ghoul chuckled. "No thanks Cods. Though a nap… now that sounds damn good." 

Nate grinned. "Busy day?" 

"Bout the same as you, I reckon." Hancock sauntered into the house, narrow hips swaying to far to be a natural gait. The stars and stripes at his waist moved in the same rhythm and drew the dweller's eye down. 

"Like what you see, pip boy?" The Ghoul teased as he passed and headed down the hallway. Red frock slipping off his shoulders as he disappeared into the bedroom. Nate addressed Codsworth.

"I'm gonna take that nap, Cods, make sure we're not disturbed for a bit, okay." 

"Certainly, sir. Enjoy!" 

Nate cracked a wide grin. "Oh, I intend to." He was down the hallway and through the door, shirt and shoes off before another thought passed through his head. Hancock was laying on the bed, hat and coat hung up, shirt folded neatly on the night stand, boots by the bedside. The guy could be ridiculously neat for a Wastelander sometimes. Nate didn't need much preamble, and hopped on top of the Ghoul. 

"Well, hello there." Hancock greeted, with a relaxed smile. 

"Hello, yourself." Nate crawled towards the Ghoul's mouth. Depressing the smaller man into the mattress. A deep hum of satisfaction resonated from Hancock's chest. 

"You looking to start something?" He arched an eyebrow ridge. Nate scoffed. 

"What? Don't Tell me you actually wanted to take a nap?" 

The Mayor chuckled. "Maybe a little, but I'm up for anything, so long as it's with you." A quick, chaste kiss on his lips had Nate swooning. He buried his blushing cheeks into the Ghoul's neck. Beginning to kiss and nip at the flesh from ear to shoulder. Hancock groaned at the attention, reaching out towards the nightstand while his other hand gripped into the dweller's hair. Nate noticed the lack of Hancock's other hand. 

"What're you doing?" The dweller sat up, his good natured smile fled when he saw what Hancock was holding. A jet inhaler. "Seriously?" The question came out in an angrier tone than Nate had meant.

"What?" Hancock was taken aback by the sudden change in the dweller's demeanor. Nate had never had a problem with chem use before, he'd even joined in on several occasions. 

"Can't we just once have sex without you needing chems?" Nate rolled off of the Ghoul, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Its just… I feel like I'm not enough for you." 

"Shit." Hancock was silent a moment, the only sound was of the inhaler being tossed back onto the nightstand. He slid up to the dweller's side. "Love it ain't like that. The chems ain't because you're not doing enough for me. Believe me, you're 100% grade A. It's actually sorta the other way round." 

Nate looked with great skepticism to where Hancock was rubbing his thigh, then to the Ghoul himself. "Hard to accept, I know, after getting to know me. A virile young thing like myself, but Ghouls will be Ghouls. And male Ghouls sometimes just need a little pick me up to…well ,pick them up. You feel me?" 

Nate nodded, "So you can't at all without…" 

Hancock laughed, "Well, shit, give me a little credit. I can get it up eventually, but I don't think my partner wants to wait that long and honestly, neither do I most the time." 

The General sighed, "Why didn't you just tell me." 

The Ghoul eased the vault dweller back onto the bed, and crawled on top of him. "The same reason you didn't tell me you were snipped." He made the motion of scissors with his fingers as Nate's eyes widened in surprise. "It's just not something you bring up." He laid down and kissed at the corner of Nate's mouth. "I thought I was doing us a favor with the chems but if you want to fuck sober, we can give it a go. Not saying it will be easy or…" 

Nate pressed his fingers to the Ghoul's lips. "Ssh, sex now." Hancock's shoulders shook as his laughter was muffled by Nate's mouth.


	6. Afternoon Read

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaun and Hancock spend some time together.

It's a slow crawl to consciousness. Their bedroom is warmed by shafts of sunlight peeking through makeshift curtains. Full of holes and dingy with age, yet it gives the place that quaint homey feeling. A feeling Hancock never would have expected to cherish. He cracks an eye open to scan the bed. It’s empty. Nate's not there. The man is probably off building a fence or mending a wall, maybe planting corn or tatos. He doesn't slow down. Hancock loves him for it, but it also drives the ghoul crazy. His gaze slides across the bed’s open expanse as he’s thinking, till he notices there's a set of dark peepers staring back at him from the edge. Instinctively he grasps at the knife tucked under his pillow, but the grip loosens when he remembers where he is. This is Sanctuary. He’s laying in the bed he shares with his husband. Those big brown eyes, along with a mess of soft black hair belong to Shaun, Nate’s son. Hancock tends to forget what his life has become in the haze of waking up.

He lets out a sigh of relief, leaving the knife to rest, and smiles at the kid. The pair of eyes crinkle at the corners as Shaun smiles broadly back.

“Morning, buddy.” 

Shaun pops up, like he’s on a spring loader. “Actually, it’s the afternoon.” 

“Oh yeah?” Hancock rubs at his head. “Shit.” The ghoul’s eyes slide back over to the kid. He’s holding something.

“Dad said I shouldn't bother you, until you woke up.” 

Hancock eases himself up on his elbows, turning over, careful to keep the blanket covering. No need to scar the kid for life. 

“No bother, Shaun. What you got there?”

How the kid's face lights up, reminds Hancock of Nate in all the ways that matter. It’s a book, old by the way the edges are frayed and the spine is worn. It’s one Hancock had brought, in fact, from the Boston Public Library. After he and Nate had cleared it, at Daisy’s behest, Hancock had been finding all manner of still viable books. He figured someone ought to read them and always brought one along whenever he visited.

He had to travel regularly between the settlements. Being Mayor of a town halfway across the map sucked at times when your family was up north. But he knew this was a better place for Shaun to grow, and maybe in a few years they could come and live in Goodneighbor. They could be together in his town, his home. He was working hard towards that goal. It was so odd to finally have a personal dream to work towards, but he liked the challenge and the reward it promised at the end. Maybe Nate was rubbing off on him to much. Heh, rubbing off. He smirked at the thought as Shaun climbed up, making himself comfortable in the bed. 

The kid wasn't shy. Hancock liked that about him. If Shaun had a question, he asked. Political correctness be damned. There was something raw and honest about it. Despite the business partners he often associated with, Hancock preferred honesty, it just made things simpler. 

“I was saving it till you came back.” He opened the book to a certain page, that had been bookmarker by inserting a pamphlet about The Treasures of Jamaica Plain. Hancock chuckled lightly. Shaun had been digging through his dad’s old steamer trunk again. 

“You can read these on your own, Shaun. I know you're plenty smart enough.” 

The kid looked like he’d been struck. “Well yeah, but it’s way more fun with you!” 

The ghoul was taken aback a moment, then let a soft smile cross his face. “If you say so. Which one was this again?” 

“Gulliver's Travels.” Hancock gave an affirmative grunt.

“And where were we?” 

Shaun giggled. “Lilliputians.” 

Hancock's eyes widened for an instant, trying to decipher the code word. It clicked an instant later. “Oh right. Tiny people...bad trip.” 

Shaun laughed. “Want me to get you a hit?”

“Hm, yeah. Grab the mentats out of my coat, would ya? I think I’m gonna need it for this one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something to break up all the loving


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The car on a cliff by Break Heart Banks gets put to use.

It was nice to take a moment, away from the fighting and the constant scavenging. A few moments to rest, to simply exist. The fact that he was sharing that moment with someone he had developed feelings for just made it that much better.

A car was perched on a cliff side overlooking a wide ravine. He sat on the hood, beneath the low hanging branches of a centuries dead tree. How long had any of these thing been here? It was a question the Vault Dweller asked himself less often as each day went by. 

This was now. What had been before was gone. It could never be reclaimed or brought back. Even the memory of the time before was fading, like a wound that was healing over. Then there was the life he had started to build here. The places he had come to know, and the people he had met along the way. 

Hancock walked around the car, carrying a few slices of melon. The Ghoul offered him one as he sidled up next to him on the hood of the car. 

They had cleared out the mutants of Break Heart Banks. Unpleasant would be one of the many words Nate would use for finding the Mutants victims stuffed into the bathroom stalls underneath the makeshift shelter. The small farm must have been halfway decent before the Mutants came. He and Hancock had done what they could to make the surrounding areas just a little safer. They couldn't help those already lost. He had to keep reminding himself of that. They were doing the best they could.

"You gonna eat that?" 

Nate was shaken from his thoughts and looked to the Ghoul sitting beside him. Hancock had juice streaming down between his fingers, staining his shirt cuff a dull pink. Nate glanced at his own uneaten melon piece, and shook his head. 

"Nah. Here." He offered it over, Hancock took it after a brief pause and tossed his own rind to the side.

"You feeling alright?" Hancock inquired between bites. Nate tried to ignore how his tongue darted out to catch the juices overflowing the corners of his mouth. He made short work of the melon, throwing the rind to the side to join the other piece. He seemed to finally notice the sticky trails running down his arm and inspected the stains on his cuff. "You haven't eaten much. If you need something to get your appetite back well…" He smirked before bringing each digit to his mouth to slowly, obscenely, suck clean. Hancock humed, inky eyes half lidded when he locks them with Nate; who can't help but lick his own lips at the display. "All you gotta do is ask." 

"I uh... No, I'm good." He focused his attention back to the ravine. The sheer cliffs on the opposite side leading down to the river below.

Hancock smirk doesn't subside. "Alright, but If you change your mind, I'm here." 

The gesture caused Nate to smile. "Thanks. Ya know, I used to fantasize about a scenario just like this one." He chuckled. "Well maybe not, exactly like this." A quick look up to the makeshift wind chimes, strung together from old dented cans and twine. He glances down as his hand glides over the rusted hood of the old Chrysler Corvega. Finally his gaze sidles up the body of his companion, "Heh, similar enough though." 

Hancock's head tilts to the side in amused curiosity. "You don't say?" Nate's eyes darted away, cheeks reddening like ripe tatos. "Don't keep a Ghoul in suspense."

The dweller cleared his throat, and stares out at the cliff side. "Well I guess I should admit I've always wanted a Corvega. Looking back now it seems silly. Useless junk after the bombs fell. But back then…" Nate gave a short whistle. "They were status symbols, and damn if I didn't want one in the exact color of your coat." He scoffed, "Oh, those cars were sexy in red, let me tell you. Seeing someone cruise by just got me going, ya know."

"The color red really do it for you, sunshine?" Hancock's tone was teasing, with an underlying hint of lust. Or maybe it was Nate's imagination. Hancock's voice tended to have that effect on him. The dweller laughed it off. 

"Maybe. Sure did for the car. I thought about how great it would be to have one. Being able to go for drives. Taking someone special out." He swept an arm out to their surroundings. "To places like this. Make out spots. Heh." Nate shook his head. "I was so stupid."

"Make out, spots? Most people do it wherever nowadays. There were places specially laid out back then?" 

Nate chuckled at the idea of designated locations to go and get lucky but realized that Hancock wasn't totally wrong. Conforming to society normality meant doing certain things a certain way. Make out spots were just a by product of the times, like many other things. 

"Sort of? It would have been considered normal, almost romantic back then, I guess." 

"That's kind of weird." Hancock shrugged. "But no judgements from me. It was a different time then." 

"In my head, it always seemed like it would be nice with the right person." Nate felt a sudden wave of conscientiousness hit him. Here he was, spilling his guts to the Ghoul Statesman and he didn't know why. 

"You were right." 

Nate looked over. "What?"

"You were right. This is nice." Hancock shot him a sideways glance. "With the right company." Nate smiled, feeling his cheeks warm as the Ghoul laid back on the hood. The tricorn tipped forward, covering most of Hancock's face but he continued talking. "I'm awful curious now. What sorts of things were you wanting to do with this special someone, exactly?"

The dweller stammered, caught off guard by the sudden question. "Oh… um, well, the usual things I guess." 

"Usual things?" A single finger lifted the brim of his hat. "Enlighten me, pip boy. What were the usual things that went down in a place like this, when a handsome fella, such as you, with a big fancy car, such as this, had someone out here, such as me?"

Nate swallowed, hard. "Mostly…mostly just…" He licked his lips. "Kissing, a bit of heavy petting maybe. Nothing to… exciting." His heart was beating fast enough for this to certainly feel exciting. The Ghoul was no doubt getting him worked up on purpose. Hancock's face split with a sharp, predatory grin, "Sounds like fun. Want to give it a go? Maybe it'll get your appetite back. If food is what you're actually hungry for." The dark chuckle the mayor let out, sent a shiver up Nate's spine. 

"Wait, what? You want to… us to make out…?"

"On the hood of a corvega, just like you wanted right? I mean I know it's a few centuries late, and I may not be your first choice… but, heh." Hancock's shark like eyes softened at the edges, "The offers there, if it'll help." 

Nate felt a swell of gratitude, but had to ask, "I don't want to take advantage of our friendship, Hancock." 

The Ghoul laughed. "Pretty sure I'm making out on this one too, Sunshine." Nate suppressed a laugh when the Mayor winked at him. "Get it?"


	8. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An impromptu date night turns into a much needed conversation.

When Hancock had promised him a good time, the sole survivor had expected a night of revelry in the Third Rail. What he hadn't expected was to be led into the heart of Boston, past several aggressive groups of individuals of varying affiliations, and into the lobby of one of the still standing skyscrapers. It was a grandiose place, high ceilings, plush seats, and an exceptionally large, semi circular desk area. The area was blissfully empty. Shooting at everything that moved could become expensive, day after day. 

“What are we doing here, Hancock?” Nate questioned, as he glanced over several rubbish bins situated around the lobby. Sometimes people stashed items for later in such receptacles. The recognizable ding of an elevator drew his eye to a row of four, along one of the walls. 

“We ain't stayin’, Pip boy. Come on.” The Ghoul motioned for him to follow as he entered the elevator that had just arrived. Nate had been astonished by how many electronic devices still worked, especially in decaying buildings like the one he found himself in now. His thoughts were thrown aside as he hurried to catch the elevator, turning his body at the last second, before the doors closed. He huffed in annoyance as Hancock grinned, and pressed the button for the top most floor. 

The ride up seemed to last an eternity. Hancock leaned against the back wall, as Nate faced the door and bounced on his heels. The elevators music no longer worked, crackling through the speaker as a low, garbled, mess from time to time. Nate was feeling anxious the longer he was confined in the small space. Not just due to the obvious threat of dying from technical issues with the contraption, but because the ghoul was remaining uncharacteristically quiet during the ride. 

Finally, his ears were graced with the chime of their steel prison arriving. He bum rushed the door as soon as it opened, squeezing himself through before the doors had fully parted. Hancock followed, at a leisurely pace. 

They were in a rather drab corridor. Two doors on one side, and a staircase at the end. “Come on sunshine, this way.” Hancock took the lead, heading for the stairwell. Nate followed, eyes gliding over the doorways. He had an itching to go searching those rooms, but he supposed if the Mayor had already been here, there was little need. Though they differed in what they thought was totally necessary at times, they often agreed on taking as much as possible; and Nate had a strong back. Maybe he’d take a peek after they were done doing whatever it was they had come to do. He was still in the dark as far as the Mayor’s intentions with bringing him all the way up here. 

It became more apparent as he followed Hancock through the door at the top of the stairs. It led out onto a wide open floor, with the apocalyptic world spread out before them. There were no walls, just thick beams of steel stretching towards the night sky. Nate moved towards the edge, drawn towards the scene before him. Far below was the city and out in the distance, the aurora of the glowing sea shifted and danced on the horizon. 

“Like it?” The Ghoul asked, coming to stand beside him. 

“Yeah...it’s...it's amazing.” 

Hancock chuckled. “This used to be one of my favorite spots.” His eyes fell on the bright, seemingly out of place lights of Diamond City. “Back when I needed a place to get away. Before Goodneighbor, and the chems, and...well everything.” Nate glanced at him, drawn away from the city scape by his words. He seemed lost for a moment, dark eyes reflecting their surroundings. Something brought the Ghoul back, and he grinned at the dweller. 

“I promised you a good time. I always make good on my promises.” The pack he’d carried, slid from his shoulder, and he proceeded to set up a scene straight out of a romantic movie, if that movie were set in the post-apocalypse. A large, if somewhat ratty, blanket was spread out; it's four corners held down by chunks of loose concrete. Hancock sat off center,focused on his task, never making eye contact as he pulled out a bottle of wine. Nate stifled a laugh of surprise. The entire scene was so unexpected. Hancock could be over the top, his personality leant to a bit of theatrics but...a picnic on a skyscraper? He decided to humor the Mayor, and there was nothing wrong with enjoying each other’s company. 

Nate dropped his own rucksack as he stepped on to the blanket, and sat next to the Ghoul. Hancock's eyes darted to him for a moment before he continued to rummage in his bag. He produced two glasses, but these were no ordinary tumblers from the bar. They were long stemmed wine glasses, appearing to be made of crystal, and other than a few water spots they were absolutely pristine; not a chip or crack on them. 

“Wow, where’d you get those?”

“Statehouse display. One of the few things Vic’s boys didn't smash up.” Hancock let out a short, wry, laugh. “Maybe ol’ Vic had an eye for the finer things.” He offered it to the pre-war man, and Nate felt a spike of anxiety taking it in hand. Something even older than he was, exceedingly delicate, and yet it had survived the end of the old world and this long into the new, against all odds. Nate rotated the glass in his hand, contemplating the uniqueness and beauty in such a rare item. 

“You do that a lot, ya know.” Hancock’s low growl cut through the dweller’s thoughts. “Stare at things, space out.” He was digging the tip of his knife into the wine cork, achieving little but scraping bits of the substance from the bottle’s neck. The Mayor was capable of procuring plenty of things, but a working corkscrew was apparently out of his scope for this venture. His struggle with the bottle didn't deter him from speaking. “People might think you’re on something, but I know better. Because I do it to...think, ponder.” He sighed in exasperation, letting the bottle rest for a moment. “What I mean is...people think I’m just high all the time, but I do think about things.” His eyes focused on the skyline, growing hard, with cold rage. “All they see is some fuck up…” 

Nate placed a hand on the Ghoul’s shoulder. “That's not what I see.” Hancock appeared trepidatious at his words, though it was hard to tell, then his eyes fell to the bottle in his lap. 

“Sorry about this. Not much of a good time, heh.”

“I have an idea that might work.” He offered to take the bottle and knife, and Hancock readily handed them over. Nate scraped a circle around the neck of the bottle, etching it deep into the glass. He handed back the large bowie blade before getting up and heading towards one of the beams. He tapped the bottle twice, getting a good angle on it, before hitting it a third time with force. The top of the bottle flew off, into the streets below. Some of the wine sloshed out before Nate turned the bottle right side up, as Hancock gave a whoop of approval behind him. 

“Nice one.”

Nate beamed at the approval, returning to their makeshift picnic, and handing the bottle over to his host. Hancock poured, as Nate’s senses were overwhelmed by the tinge of alcohol wafting out of the bottle. If he knew Hancock, they were drinking the whole bottle; and they didn't have much choice now. They wouldn't be leaving the top floor anytime soon. Nate wasn't exactly upset over the realization. 

“To you.” Hancock tipped his glass in the man's direction. Nate held his up to meet the toast, though his confusion was evident. 

“Me?” 

The Ghoul nodded, “Yeah, you.” He pointed, far off in the distance. “You can't really see it all that well, even from here. But way out that way, there are some lights that never used to be there. Do you know what they are?” Nate shook his head. “It's Sanctuary. Your town. Your home. The one you helped bring back to life.” Hancock was silent a moment, taking a long look into his glass. “You can't see it at street level, but you're changing the face of the Commonwealth.” He glanced up at the dweller, giving him a small smile, “If that's not worth toasting, I don't know what is.”

“We.” Nate smiled warmly, as Hancock looked just as confused as Nate had been a moment ago. “We’re changing the Commonwealth.” He raised his glass again. “To us.” The wine glasses left an echoing ring as they gently collided with one another. 

The first sip was awful! It had both men gagging, and sputtering.

“Shit!” Hancock wiped at his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “That could take the paint off a synth.” 

Nate laughed, “It’ll get better, just drink more.” They both took another sip, grimacing at the burn. 

“Nope, still bad.” Their laughter echoed off the old concrete. “Oh I brought something else.” Hancock dug into the bottom of his bag, producing a distinctive pink box. 

“Fancy lads! Damn, if I had known I would have brought something.”

The Ghoul shook his head. “Nah, that's not the point.” He set the box between them. “You deserve the best.” Nate felt weight behind the comment as he watched Hancock's expression, and decided to probe deeper, as delicately as he could manage. 

“You used to come up here a lot, what changed?” Hancock sighed. 

“Everything, everyone. You remember that drifter I told you about. The one who got his face cracked open by Vic’s boys. The one who sent me into a spiral and I eventually came out…” He motioned to himself. “Like this.” 

“Of course I remember.” Nate felt the weight of empathy deep in his gut. “He wasn't just any drifter, was he?” 

“His name was Chance.” Hancock's laugh was harsh, and short. “Isn't that the dumbest name? Stupid bastard that he was.” Nate wanted to reach out, but kept his distance. Letting the Ghoul continue at his own pace. “He was one of Daisy’s boys. Running junk to Diamond city, back before the ban.” Hancock took a sip from his glass, eyes still focused on the horizon. “I got to know him. Followed him back to Goodneighbor, over and over. Each time, I stayed a little longer.” 

“Until you finally stayed for good?” 

“Yeah. We were together, sort of. I don't know how to explain it really. Together but separate.” Another sip of wine. “He got his face caved in standing up for what he believed in, but not before he and I had it out that night.” 

“Hancock. John, you can't blame yourself.” 

“Can't I? He was angry at me, looking for a fight and he went out and found one.” The Ghoul heaved a sigh that sounded as if a mountain was being removed from his chest. “I can't pretend to be something I’m not. You do deserve the best, and I’m not about to fool myself into thinking that could ever be me.” 

Nate blinked, unsure if he’d heard the man correctly. “Wait, did you just say you wanted to be with me?” Hancock seemed to shrink, looking anywhere but at him.

“I...I already know the answer, but I couldn't help it.” He forced a laugh, trying to relieve the tension in the air. “Maybe I could, but have you seen yourself?”

Nate bristled, “You can't go around blaming people's looks, or deciding things for them based on…” His hand rotated, in a frustrated gesture. “Whatever it was you based that decision on.”

Hancock scowled. “What the fuck do you think?” 

“I think that this conversation is a two way road and you shouldn't be making choices for me.” He focused on drinking rather than wanting to punch the Mayor in the face, and released a sigh as he set his glass down. “Do you actually want to hear what I have to say about us, or have you made up your mind for me?” Hancock didn't look at him, choosing to drink in lieu of an answer. “Just listen then. Just being with you makes me forget for a moment that there was a before…” He swept his arm out toward the broken city. “All this. You make me laugh, and you’re so much smarter than people give you credit for. Just sitting and talking with you is a good enough time for me.” Nate glanced at the blanket, the wine glass in his hand, the snack cakes; all the work that Hancock had put into their little excursion, and grinned. “You’re obviously a romantic and that's a super sexy bonus.” The flicker of a grin teased the Ghoul’s lip as he emptied his glass. 

“So…?” He questioned, finally turning to gaze at the dweller. 

“So, what I’m trying to say is…I’d like us to be together, too.” 

“No shit?” Hancock huffed, looking slightly dumbfounded. “Didn't expect that kinda lapse in judgement from you.”

Nate fell to the blanket and let loose with deep laughter, shocked to hilarity by the Ghoul's reaction. He regained his composure and looked up at the Mayor.

“We owe it to ourselves to be happy, to at least try.” 

Seeing the night sky frame Hancock's tricorn adorned visage caused Nate to have an idea. He retrieved his rucksack, and placed it between them, laying himself back so his head rested on the bag. He patted the spot next to him and Hancock joined him, resting in a similar fashion. 

He reached out, in the space between and found the Ghoul's hand. It wasn't the first time he'd taken hold of the Mayor’s hand. Nate had shaken his hand, he’d grabbed onto it like a life line, and yanked the man away from danger. This time was different. This time, their fingers intertwined, and Nate realized how wonderful it felt to just hold on, as they gazed up at the stars together.

“I can't replace Chance, and I’m sorry for that. But I hope I make you even the slightest bit as happy, as you make me.” 

“You already have, Sunshine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a different turn than expected, but it still feels like them. I have a lot of backstory headcanon for Hancock, and Chance is a part of that.


End file.
